


Absence

by newyorktopaloalto



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2012-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-16 22:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newyorktopaloalto/pseuds/newyorktopaloalto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Without him, breathing was never an option.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absence

**Author's Note:**

> A quick study on Karkat after Gamzee disappears.

You couldn't breathe. It had been something that had been going on for awhile, but you never really felt it until now— never thought that it had mattered. But of course it did— it couldn't not.

And seeing him, so much alike and yet more different than you ever really wanted to imagine you could feel your breath stuttering and stopping— longing for something he couldn't give and you didn't want to try and take from him. Close but not close enough— no one else would ever be close enough.

But he had been gone for who knew how long, and you were sure that even some of the others had seen him since you last did. It seemed unfair; it was unfair. Life, however, was never fair to you, and you supposed that he didn't need you anymore, happy enough on his own, undoubtedly insane, adventures.

You noticed the tang in your mouth signaling the fact that you bit your lip hard enough to make it bleed, before you actually noticed the pain. You should have cared— but you knew it was the worst kept secret in the universe, and what was the point anymore? Not like anyone would do anything except maybe treat you like more a pariah than you already felt.

After a moment of continuing to stare blankly at him-not him, you finally dredged up a smile— sadder than the slightly annoyed/agitated that you were going for— and walked away. Your footsteps felt final as you realized you'd probably never see real him again. He had, after all, been hiding from you, as if knowing that everything was your fault and that you were the one who had fucked up. And you were, because you were the leader and you were a failure and you wanted to just die, die, die, but you knew that you couldn't.

Glad you were away from everyone, you hardly had the time to get your fringe out of your face, before you threw up. Gagging on nothing but bile— when was the last time you ate— you coughed a few times to clear everything out and ignored the dizziness that threatened to spiral into blackness. Instead you just kneeled there and rested your forehead on your knees' a position of prayer that, had you been in a better state of mind, would have made you bare your teeth at the irony.

How long had it been since you last saw him? And fuck no, not going on that train of thought again, even if happiness always made you think of him.

How long?

How fucking long?

Why wasn't he here goddamnit?! You just— you needed him.

How long?

Too long.

And hadn't you always been there for him? Fed him and clothed him and talked to him and attempted to keep him sane, even when you were afraid, when you knew that he could kill you with one hand and you would probably do nothing because you deserved it— God you didn't deserve anything less than death for all the bullshit that you caused everybody.

His name was weak on your lips, turning into a scream as you continued calling it, voice turning ragged and tears catching in your mouth as you wanted nothing more than one of those spine-popping hugs that you always used to complain about before. But he wasn't going to come, because he was only there when he needed you, and you were deluded enough to think you could live with this one-sided relationship, because at least you got him, and you were so pale you'd do anything, even though he hadn't given you a second glance since you'd helped him.

Maybe you were doomed from the start, doomed for failure like your blood told you that you were. Maybe all you were ever meant to be was a helper to all with no one to help you. That's what a leader was, right? It must be, because that's all you felt— all you have ever felt, and it was always going to be like that and you needed to buck up God, you hated yourself. You always did, but this time it was even worse because you hated not just your past self, but your current and future self as well.

Rocking back and forth on a patch of green as sounds from various horrorterrors surround you, digging your claws into your horns and hissing at the painpleasure the motion gave you, was not the ideal way to be spending your time.

But it was all you had.

Your voice shook as you tried, feebly, once more.

"Gamzee," you whispered to no one, tears stopping as you made yourself stand up— you useless fucker, you have shit you need to get done.

And so you stood up and wiped your tears and scratched off the dried vomit and straightened your clothing and did a million other things to make yourself look normal.

You would be okay. You would be okay until you died.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: First Homestuck fic. Um, this just came out, because I see so many fics where Karkat had been neglecting his and Gamzee's moirallegiance, and I wanted to shit that 'trope,' especially considering the state that Gamzee has been in since he sobered up.
> 
> So yeah, tell me what you think, if you'd like to, and I hope— if nothing else, you enjoyed my first bit of HS fanfic.


End file.
